Pixie Dust
by Daring Dear
Summary: So, he had a superpower now, he could do anything with it. But what? The answer was really quite obvious: He'd go bother Artie!


_**America, fuck yeah! Comin' again to save again to save the mother fuckin' day, yeah! America, fuck yeah! Freedom is the only way, yeah! Terrorists, your game is through, 'cause now you have to answer to, America, fuck yeah- CRACK! **_

Alfred F. Jones groaned as he rolled over in bed, his poor alarm clock shattering under the force of his hand as he tried to hit slumber. He opened one blue eye, grumbling to himself. Damn, that was the fifth one this month. He cringed at the light pouring through his window, illuminating his bedroom. His American flag blanket was tangled around his legs, tripping him when he tried to stumble off the bed. Mumbling unintelligible curses at the innocent scrap of fabric, he got to his feet and buried one hand in his messy blonde hair. His head was pounding, the crushed alarm clock saying he had woken up at 2:06. In the afternoon, obviously, because the damn sun was still burning his eyes. He couldn't remember how he had gotten back home, the last memory from last night was stumbling out of the men's restroom at the pub. He'd have to call Mathew or something, maybe he knew.

"Meow! Meow! Meow!"

Alfred blinked a few times, trying to clear his head. Was that meowing? It didn't sound like Americat. It didn't sound like it was coming from inside either. Walking to the window and tugging it open, still clad in only his Superman shirt and blue pajama bottoms, he stuck his head out and looked around. There was a little white kitten on his roof, with a blue ribbon tied around its neck.

"Hey there, little guy, you lost? How'd you get on my roof?" Alfred asked, reaching up to adjust his lopsided glasses.

The cat just meowed back, curled up in a ball and shaking.

"You stuck? Don't worry little kitty, the hero is here!" he proclaimed loudly, crawling out of his window and onto the slightly slanted roof without any thought of safety.

Crawling across the roof, he reached out and scooped the kitten up with one hand. He opened his mouth to shout some heroic spiel, but the kitten clearly didn't understand he was there to save it. Screeching loudly, it flailed its tiny paws, little claws digging into his skin.

"Ow! Bad kitty, stop that!" he yelled, sitting up straight and leaning back, forgetting he was on the roof, "W-whoa!"

Losing his balance, he fell back, remembering suddenly that his room was on the second floor. Fuck. Twisting around in the air, he stared down, the bright green ground beneath him seeming too far away. A rush of curse words and regrets flew through his head, before realization set in. He wasn't falling. He was…floating? The kitten, too scared to move, stopped clawing and simply clung to his hand. Was…was he still dreaming? He certainly felt awake. So…how did he move? He tried kicking his legs, which only left him hanging upside down in the air. He kicked until he was right side up, and thought of other ways he might move. Turning his head, he stared at the tree in his yard. Maybe…

He took a deep breath, and concentrated on the tree. He imagined himself moving towards the tree, and slowly, he began floating towards it. That's how you do it! He looked down, and focused on the ground. He slowly sunk lower, until he was hovering an inch above the grass, and released the kitten. It ran off, leaving Alfred alone to think about his situation. He could actually fly, like a real superhero. Only one word could describe this.

"Awesome!" he laughed, throwing his hands in the air and causing himself to do a few flips, "Whoa! Better watch out for that."

After he stopped flipping, he flew upwards, staring down at his home with a smile. Man, was it cool! All the colors ran together and made a pretty little picture when you were up above them, like when you look out an airplane window. So, he had a superpower now, he could do anything with it. But what? The answer was really quite obvious: He'd go bother Artie! Laughing at the thought of the Englishman's face when he saw this, Alfred thought hard about Arthur's home, and soon he was flying towards it. He had to cross the ocean, which was pretty cool. The water was nice and blue, and if he flew up real high, the ships all looked like bath toys! Not that he used bath toys now, he was a big hero man, he just meant like toys from when he was a kid and stuff. It was surprising how quickly he got there, a lot faster than a plane or something. A wide grin on his face, he flew around until he saw the window to England's second floor study. If he knew Artie, he'd be in there, having another cup of tea.

He was pleased to spot the blonde perched in a chair, newspaper in one hand and tea in the other. This was gonna be good. He ducked down so he was floating under the window, and knocked on the glass several times. Arthur blinked, turning to stare at the window. Who on earth would be knocking on his window? Scowling, he dropped the newspaper on the coffee table and strolled over to it. He hated to be interrupted when he was relaxing. God forbid it was one of his brothers, he'd never get any rest if it was. Flinging it open, he found…no one. Alfred giggled, and suddenly sprang up, shocking the confused nation who yelped and stumbled back in shock.

"Howdy Artie!" he called cheerfully, laughing his trademark laugh as he waved wildly at the startles man.

"You…you…" Arthur stuttered as he tried to catch his breath, green eyes narrowing in a threatening way as he finally managed to speak, "You bloody git! What the hell do you think you're doing, startling me like that? I raised you better than that! Who in their right mind just pops through someone's window like that and aren't we on the second floor?"

Arthur blinked, his tirade coming to end with the realization. How had the moron managed that? He must be on an incredibly high ladder. Scowling, he stuck his head out the window and renewed his lecture, "You idiot, you'll hurt herself climbing so…high…"

His voice trailed off as he stared down, and saw no ladder. What he did see was Alfred, floating in mid air. The American just laughed and floated higher, signature grin on his face. Arthur frowned, noting the shimmering pixie dust around him. Odd, Alfred didn't see magical creatures, how had he gotten covered in pixie dust? His train of though stalled as Alfred threw his hands up, flipping backwards in the air.

"Stop that! You'll fall right out of the air! Do you know how high up we are? Get in here, you idiot!" Arthur snapped, leaning out the window to get his attention.

Alfred smiled evilly, and rather than go in, he grabbed Arthur's hand and yanked him out the window. Said Englishman yelped, not liking the idea of dangling in the air at all. He glared at Alfred, though it had no effect on the obnoxious man.

"You wanker! Put me down! I demand you put me back this instant!"

"No way, Artie! Look at how cool everything is!" Alfred laughed, flying higher so he could look down on England. It looked really cool from up high too!

Arthur was not amused. He expressed his displeasure by, in a very gentleman like fashion, flipping the fuck out. Which isn't the best thing to do while dangling a hundred feet in the air.

"ALFRED YOU BLOODY WANKER YOU PUT ME BACK ON THE GROUND THIS FUCKING MINUTE!" he screeched, his voice raising a few decibels.

Alfred, being the kind of hero he was, completely ignored Arthur's panicked pleas and kept flying. "No way! I can't wait to show off in front of Francis and Mathew!"

"Alfred, you idiot!" Arthur snapped, gripping the younger man's wrist with the hand he wasn't clutching, desperate for some sort of stability, "Pixie dust only lasts so long!"

"Pixie dust?" Alfred's nose wrinkled in confusion, "You mean your weird little fairy friends? Yeah, right."

"They are not weird. They are certainly more civilized than you are." Arthur snapped, "And how else do you explain flying?"

Alfred shrugged, making Arthur cringe as he jerked unsteadily in the air, "I must have drank an energy drink last night."

"You what? What on earth does that have to do with this?" the Englishman asked shrilly, outraged.

"Uh, duh, dude. Red Bull gives you wings!" Alfred laughed manically, swinging wildly from side to side, ignoring Arthur's sharp shrieks.

"ALFRED, YOU BLOODY…BLOODY…WHERE ARE WE?" Arthur shrieked, fighting to keep the pitch of his voice below girlish levels, with little success. He attempted to insult the American again, but his spinning mind drew a blank.

"France!" Alfred declared, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Why would you want to visit that bloody frog—Alfred, stop dropping so quickly!"

"I told you, I'm gonna show—I'm not trying to—oh, crap!" Alfred began flailing frantically in the air, and Arthur's eyes widened in realization.

"YOU BLOODY MORON, I TOLD YOU IT WOULD WEAR OFF!" he shouted, terror and rage in his voice as he clung to the only thing he could, Alfred's arms.

"Ouch! Iggy, that hurts!" the American whined, still flailing helplessly as they began to move faster and faster.

"LIKE I BLOODY CARE!" Arthur roared, the wind screaming in his ears as they plummeted to the earth, "IF WE DIE, I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!"

Alfred didn't have the time to process the impossibility of that statement, because they struck water at that instant. Pain shot through him, and his head spun, but at least he hadn't struck the ground. He swam up, still clutching Arthur's wrist. He dragged the both of them through the water and to the shore, shaking like a dog would when he was back on land.

Arthur sputtered and coughed, spitting pond water as he shielding his face, "Stop that, you moron!"

He cringed at the pain in his arm, pulling his wet sleeve back to reveal multiple dark purple bruises. He glared at his companion, "You bloody git! I told you to put me down! Nearly broke my arm, dragged me through the bloody sky, dropped me in the water, in _France _of all places!"

"Chill, dude. It was just a little fun."

Arthur twitched. Fun? _Fun?_ This was his idea of bloody fun? He turned slowly toward the younger man, eyes dark. Without a word, he tackled him, earning a startled yelp.

"Hey! Iggy! Dude! Stop it!" Alfred yelped, shielding himself from the other's blows.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE I LET YOU DO THIS TO ME—"

"Angleterre? Amerique? What are you doing in my pond?"

Arthur froze, his head turning slowly to see the last person he'd ever want witnessing him in such a state. It was Francis. Arthur whirled on his ex-colony again. "I'M GOING TO MURDER YOU!"

* * *

><p>This amused me greatly. xD<p>

I do not own Hetalia, sadly.


End file.
